


Family Visits

by bookfairy_writes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Family time, Gen, adlock kids, prison visits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookfairy_writes/pseuds/bookfairy_writes
Summary: Much to the dismay of Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock decides his children should meet their aunt.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LyraNgalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyraNgalia/gifts).



Nero was eight and Livia five when their father turned up around teatime on a Thursday afternoon and announced that they were going to visit their aunt.

Nell was of course immediately concerned as what little she knew of Eurus Holmes included her genius, her enjoyment of playing with people, and her nearly-lifelong imprisonment. Naturally, she called Irene and left a message. She then proceeded to lecture Sherlock Holmes about how impressionable young children were and how irresponsible such exposure to a person such as his sister would be. He interrupted her to check his phone, a breathy sigh that had Irene written all over it. He then showed her a text, managing to look both irritated and satisfied at once.

**I'll meet you in London tomorrow. It can be a family visit.**

 

London was cool and rainy when Irene Adler slipped into the window of Sherlock Holmes' flat. Two children's pairs of Wellington boots were tossed by the door in a heap next to two small rain jackets and tiny umbrellas. On the rug in the middle of the room, Nero read '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea', lying on his belly and propped up on several pillows. 

"Anything good?" she asked her son, and watched his face light up, then tamper back down as he schooled his expression into a more serious one.

"Hello Mummy. It's all right. I preferred 'The Swiss Family Robinson'."

"Is your father in the kitchen with Livia?"

"She's getting all her tests."

"Nero, who are you talking to?" a child's voice called. "Daddy won't let me get up to see."

"Deduce," Sherlock's voice came from the kitchen as well.

"John or Mummy. Mrs. Hudson calls for you and everyone else knocks."

"Go on."

Irene walked towards the kitchen as her daughter said, 'It's Mummy,' with certainty.

"Because?"

"John doesn't wear heels."

"Though he could use the height," Irene remarked as she entered the cluttered kitchen. Her daughter was currently sorting some kind of picture cards into several piles, standing on a little stool so she could see the counter. Livia looked up briefly and flashed her mother a dazzling smile before returning to the cards. Irene walked over, running a hand over her daughter's hair as she looked down at the cards. They depicted animals which Livia was sorting into groups; another of Sherlock's experiments then. He enjoyed measuring the progress of his offspring when he could, monitoring physical as well as mental growth. 

"Does your brother know that we're going to visit?"

"Unfortunately."

"And?"

"He's insisted on coming along to supervise."

"As though she didn't get out on his watch before," Irene scoffed.

"As you know, Mycroft is nothing if not irritatingly stubborn. Do come in, Mycroft, it must be difficult to eavesdrop from out in the living room."

"Actually, I can hear fine. Your walls are so very thin; I fail to see why you insist on living here."

"I fail to see why it's any of your business."

"I didn't have to pick you up, Sherlock."

"I didn't ask you to."

"Boys," Irene said sharply, and the brothers Holmes both turned to look at her. "If you're quite finished bickering.'

"I wasn't actually," Sherlock said mildly.

"Should we put on our boots, Mummy?" Livia asked.

"And your jackets."

"Nell said I could bring my violin."

"Take that as well then."

Scrambling from the kitchen, Livia went to fetch Nero and get ready to go, only to find him already sitting on the sofa with his wellies and jacket on, reading his book. 

 

 

Eurus Holmes and the children stared at each other. Eurus didn't ask any of the usual questions adults did about their age or make remarks about how much they looked like their mother or father. She just looked at them, a long searching look which felt more like a medical scan than anything else. Finally, she spoke.

"I don't suppose I'm allowed to be alone with them."

"Absolutely not," Mycroft said primly. Both of their parents looked at him with matching withering gazes. "You're supervised around grown adults, why should children be any different?"

"They're very clever," Eurus said. It could have been a response to the question or merely an observation. It wasn't clear if it was meant to be either or both. She looked at them some more.

"What do you know about me?"

Neither child spoke for a moment and Eurus smiled.

"You are clever, aren't you?"

"Did you teach Daddy to play the violin?" Livia asked in lieu of answering.

"I did."

"I brought my violin. Can I play for you?"

"I can't stop you."

Livia studied her aunt for a moment, then glanced at her brother, who gave a minuscule nod. 

"I think you could."

Nero sat down in front of the glass while Livia went to unpack her instrument and began tuning it. Their conversation was mostly Nero asking questions about when the Holmes' were children. She only paused a few times, once when Mycroft cleared his throat loudly, once to glance at Sherlock, and another time for no reason Nero could discern. He had a lot of questions but the problem was he didn't know what sort of adult his aunt was. He loved his parents and constantly strove for their approval but they wanted him to be like they were--that was one kind of adult, the kind that expected children to be like them, only shorter. The second kind of adult was what Nell was--she understood that sometimes Nero or Livia wanted to cry or yell or jump and climb on things, that they weren't adults, they were children (although very very clever children). Another kind was the sort that their nursery school teachers had been--the sort that thought all children were simple, stupid creatures. Perhaps some children were, but those sorts of adults refused to believe that you were clever even when you'd proved it a dozen times over. There were other kinds, some were the sorts Nell warned them away from and some were just other adults, but Eurus didn't behave like any of them. His aunt was a puzzle.

His thoughts were interrupted when Livia dropped a music book into his lap.

"Can you turn the pages for me?"

He obliged.

When she was finished, the little girl smiled brightly at Eurus.

"Did you like it?"

Her aunt stared at her.

"Does that matter?"

Livia considered this.

"If you're very good at the violin than I suppose it does. If you liked it, it was good playing."

"Perhaps I'll tell you next time," Eurus Holmes said.

"When's next time?"

"Next month, I expect."

"Yes," their uncle agreed from the other side of the room. "As long as everything goes smoothly."

"I'll visit regardless," Sherlock interjected. 

"I know."

"Would either of you like some chocolate biscuits?" Mycroft asked the Adler-Holmes children. They knew it was an excuse for them to leave rather than a genuine interest in their enjoyment of chocolate biscuits, but there was no reason to turn down perfectly good chocolate biscuits. 

"Yes please," they chorused. Livia put her violin and book away and the pair followed Mycroft out into the hallway. Perhaps twenty minutes later, their mother came out into the hall, looking satisfied. Irene plucked a biscuit from the package and took a bite, staring thoughtfully at the door. Another ten minutes passed before their father emerged.

"Nice visit?" Irene asked. One of her brows was raised and the corner of her mouth was turned up in a knowing smirk. 

"Informative," Sherlock replied. He did not take a biscuit.

On the helicopter ride back to London, Irene sent a text  before tucking the mobile back into her pocket. Family visits could certainly be informative.


End file.
